


Of Sanctuaries and Paroles

by Quinnacin



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Adam Lives AU, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnacin/pseuds/Quinnacin
Summary: A series of which Adam Stanheight survives and escapes his shackles.





	Of Sanctuaries and Paroles

**Author's Note:**

> These are seperate oneshots, *not* meant to be put together into a complete story. By the way, some oneshots might not include Lawrence or Adam, but it may mention them; just a quick reminder.
> 
> More notes at end ——
> 
> Enjoy.

   The pills were taken as John is now fixing up the makeup on his face, adding supplementary details. Amanda is on the other half of the room, Adam's side, a key in her fingers to which she simply tosses it into the filthy tub. The sound of the key hitting the very bottom of the water-filled scrap was forte enough for the elder to hear. He doesn't turn and merely does his piercing aegean-blue eyes do drift, "Put it around his neck."

   "He'll find it, easy, that way," retorted a women, Amanda, the incredulity stare of her's is faint, then slips once the old John is turned to look at her, forthwith;  his eyes are cold, meagre with interest that she longed for, "Put it around his neck. Remember rules—"

   "I know." and she wants to rudely snap more, but her lips are confined and her fingertips are already deep, deep inside the filled bathtub. Retrieving the key hooked on a thick twine, she carefully lifted the unconscious man's head, whereas she settled down the chain around Adam's head. It's indecisive on why she was gentle, but she needed not to know of that, head unloaded as she picked up the bag and Adam's pair of combat boots as she loaded out of the room, one last lingering, cryptic look at John who's settled in the pool of faux blood.

   "If it's a game," says John, head ever so lightly picked up from the floor - not yet touching it - as it was to spoil the freshness of the gander -, "you play by the rules, Amanda. Remember, there are rules."

   Amanda switched on him, her back, flicking off the light and locking the door after her heels. Rules . . she need best remember those . .

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of like some of the writing I did, and I might pick some of the oneshots and make it into a story, aussi. Euhh- -


End file.
